


Merry-Go-Round of Life

by Jellycho (Nyxokal)



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Howl's Moving Castle Fusion, Comedy, Emil is a noble, First Meetings, Lalli is Done With His Shit, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 17:30:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6385672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxokal/pseuds/Jellycho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emil is a noble, for god's sake. He should be handled with more care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry-Go-Round of Life

If there is one thing Emil has always been sure of, one thing that he's never faltered on or doubted, it is the fact that he is a rather beautiful young man.  
  
Emil brushes his hair cautiously and slowly, taking care to not over-brush one section or accidentally move on to the next without finishing the previous first. He holds the artistically carved brush tightly in his hand, eyes closed as he counts his movements; he's at around forty four right now, just a little bit away from finishing with the left side of his mane.  
  
Soon he will start with the right.  
  
Yes, he does this every morning, afternoon, and night. Yes, Emil knows he's being vain and ridiculous, but when you take into consideration his life, can you blame him? A noble is supposed to look beautiful. The high class is a ruthless society to be involved in, and the best way to blend in and experience nothing but the good side of it is to look your best, first and foremost, every single day.  
  
With one last brush he at last finishes with the left side, temporarily sets the brush down on the vanity, and opens his eyes to take one long look at his reflection in the mirror.  
  
Emil sighs. He truly is a beautiful man.

* * *

Colourful shreds of paper dancing in the air, the sound of trumpets overpowering every other instrument. A few cars here and there with important people on them, waving at the common folk as they pretend that they actually care.  
  
The parade is just as silly and picturesque as Emil could've imagined it.  
  
He crosses his arms, forgetting for a moment that the gesture is probably one the other nobles will frown upon. Rather than focusing on the parade, Emil decides to whine about everything else instead; the air is hot an humid, making wearing this stupid scarf an actual living hell, a torture. He fans himself with his left hand, knowing full well that the rest of society will take in his presentation and actions and make a bigger fuss about them than they should.  
  
Emil should care, but right now it's just way too hot to do so.  
  
After a while he can't take it anymore — he would just go ahead and rip the piece of cloth off his neck, but at the last minute he remembers he still has manners to follow. Gently, carefully, Emil unwraps the scarf from his neck, and then helplessly watches it be torn from his being by a sudden rush of wind.  
  
It takes him two full seconds to process what just happened, and then another two to shriek and turn around, rush after his scarf while ignoring his family's shouting for him to come back. They sound serious, but Emil knows that they won't even dare try to follow him. Most he can get is a scolding, saved for later when he's back home.  
  
That'd be nice. A slight change from monotony, at least.  
  
He rounds a corner, looking for the runaway scarf, and promptly bumps into someone much smaller than him. The differences in their height and body mass almost cause Emil to practically shove the smaller person to the ground, but they stand firm and tall, the only disturbance a slight gasp of surprise and a noise that sounds close to a hiss.  
  
How bizarre.  
  
"Ah—!" Emil's hands fly first to his hair, fixing any possible collateral damage. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Pardon me!"  
  
The scarf is getting away. Emil spares a glance at the other's face, bows his head apologetically, and then rushes back into his pursuit.  
  
The one thing he does see, before he leaves, is a pair of striking pale blue eyes.

* * *

"Oh goodness— Oh geez— Are you sure you know what you're doing?!"  
  
Emil breathes heavily, clinging onto the other man for dear life. How did it come to this, again? All he wanted was to look for his lost scarf, get away from noble life just for a second, and now here he is up in the skies, taking a nice stroll right above the parade.  
  
And it's all that guy's fault, the one with the pale blue eyes.  
  
"Oh god—!" Emil tries his best to walk along to the other's rhythm, but just looking down below is enough to get him to tighten his death grip on the other man, throwing him off balance yet _again._ "We're going to fall! We're going to fall!"  
  
He accidentally pulls on the other's hood, which gets caught in his hair and seems to cause him a considerable amount of pain. The smaller one's steps falter momentarily before he rights himself back up, picking up at Emil's weight like he's a child to be carried after falling asleep somewhere stupid.  
  
Between his panicky breaths, Emil can process a few things about the other man: pale blonde hair, pale skin, pale blue eyes. Everything about him is pale one way or another, with the absence of colour in his features somehow standing out to Emil even more than his magic does.  
  
He _is_ still taking a casual walk up in the sky, after all. And his hair is going to look awful after this.  
  
Emil hears the mage say something, but he realizes he doesn't understand any of it. "What?!" he shouts; maybe it's because of how high up they are that he can't listen. It happens sometimes when he's on an aircraft. "What did you say?"  
  
The mage turns his face to look him in the eye, speaking yet again. Right away Emil realizes that the words he is speaking are absolute, complete nonsense, and he's understood nothing.  
  
"What?"  
  
To say that Emil doesn't expect what comes next is an understatement. The mage rolls his eyes, then breaks free of his grasp and unceremoniously throws him forward. Falling, Emil twists around and reaches forward for the mage as his scream catches in his throat, coming out a little more high pitched than it would have otherwise.  
  
He feels his own heart stop. This is it. This is how he dies—  
  
—Except he doesn't, not really. He just hits a harsh surface, back first, and ends up sprawled over the wooden balcony floor of his own home.  
  
What the heck?  
  
Emil looks up at the mage who has so gracefully brought him home, not sure whether to feel offended or grateful. The other man miraculously stands on the railing, thin as the rails and hunched like a cat, glaring down at him. The hood is back over his head, hiding most but not all of his messy hair, and just looking at it once has Emil forget everything for a second; this man should really brush his hair.  
  
He thinks that, and almost as if he were reading his thoughts the mage sniffs, stiffens, and jumps off the railing.  
  
Just like that.  
  
Emil feels like passing out.

* * *

That night during dinner Emil plays around with his food, earning glares and a few polite reprimands from all those sitting around the table.  
  
How is he supposed to gather an appetite after today? Now calmer, Emil recalls every event that had led to him meeting the mage. First he crashes onto him, then he runs away. Then he's surrounded by strange humanoid creatures wearing silly, _silly_ clothes, and then in comes the mage once again to literally sweep him off his feet and carry him high into the skies, apparently somewhere safer.  
  
Emil subconsciously curls into himself, puffs his cheeks. He thinks of pale hair and eyes and feels grateful. Then he thinks of meaningless words, of being thrown onto his balcony, and then the magic of the moment is gone. He pats at his hair, still feeling as though it's messy from the excitement even though he's brushed it at least a hundred times already, and huffs. Emil is a noble, for god's sake. He should be handled with more care.  
  
Thank you, mage, but also how dare you.

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I'm posting this part already bc I actually kinda like it. I was originally gonna rewrite the whole movie, but my writer's block wouldn't allow it back then. Also, I've got Other, Bigger Projects to work on right now (hint: Undertale Is A Great Game Right), and I want to finish those asap.
> 
> Still, here's the rundown of this AU:  
> 1\. Lalli is Howl and he transforms into a Giant Cat instead of a bird bc fuck it  
> 2\. Emil is a noble who gets cursed for being a little shit to a witch. His biggest regret upon being made an old man is the loss of his hair  
> 3\. Sigrun is Calcifer. She will burn your bacon  
> 4\. Tuuri is Markl, but instead of her being Lalli's apprentice, she's more of a. Weird caretaker? Sort of. Idk  
> 5\. Mikkel is the fukcing scarecrow I'm crying  
> 6\. And I guess Reynir would be the dog or osmething? I'm laughing I didn't really develop this au after a while sorry
> 
> But yeah. If anyone wants to go on from this idea you're welcome to do so bc I Suck and I'm p sure I won't be revisiting this au myself :V Sorry, but hope you enjoyed this!!


End file.
